


Baby Alive (Baby For Real)

by Destructionofsanctum (Momoisme), Momoisme



Series: Tea Party Trauma [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Child death off screen, F/F, Falkreath, Is there a trigger warning for using children as living baby dolls?, Just some grim stuff here really, Lightly described bad things happen to children, Necromancy, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-27 18:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30126747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momoisme/pseuds/Destructionofsanctum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momoisme/pseuds/Momoisme
Summary: Grim things seem to be attracted to Falkreath, but this isn't like what happened with Sinding and Hircine. This time more children are in danger, the Jarl can't keep the citizens together enough to put a stop to it. Will Elayn and Serana be able to put a stop to it before another child is found dead?
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Serana
Series: Tea Party Trauma [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2217204
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Read the notes, guys, this isn't the worst thing I've ever written as far as how grim the content gets but it's up there. No graphic child abuse, nothing too messy, but it's not exactly a happy tale. Suff-- I mean, enjoy!

Skyrim was a country of many climates. There were the cold parts, the wet parts-- the cold and wet parts. This wasn't counting the north that was nothing but snow and ice nearly all year round. As far as weather went, it was a safe expectation that one was going to be soaked. Elayn was fortunate for her lycanthropic vigour that kept her from catching her death of cold, because she refused to wear a coat. 

"I have scars for a reason, 'Rana," she said in the tone of one repeating oneself for the hundredth time. "So people don't decide to start a fight. These scars are a testament to my prowess!" 

Serana hid her mouth behind her hand as she watched Elayn get more and more emphatic. She wouldn't tell her mate in words, but the show was less that of a brave warrior standing her ground, and more that of a teenager who refuses to put salve on the knick on his chin because it impresses farm girls. 

The feeling went across their mating bond loud and clear regardless and Elayn stopped midstep with a huff. "I'm not being silly," she grumbled. 

Serana let herself laugh and put an arm around her valiant mate. "You just look so pathetic soaking wet," she admitted teasingly. "An oilskin cloak would help that." 

The werewolf sighed. "Ah, logic, my worst enemy. Fine, I'll pick one up in Falkreath as we pass through." 

Falkreath was just part of a journey with many stops. Since leaving Volkihar, where Elayn promised to show her everything, they had wandered around a great deal of Skyrim. While during that mess with the scrolls they had used carriages, afterwards Elayn had insisted that such convenience was no real way to see the country. So they walked, because horses barely tolerated Elayn in the best of circumstances. 

It was near sundown when they arrived in a little rundown place that barely qualified as a holdfast. The clouds misting rain on the pine forest below made it possible for Serana, with her vampiric nature, to travel through the day, which made interacting with the Nord residents a tad easier. It made mundane folk nervous when strangers showed up in town after dark. Elayn was less of a stranger to this town than some random traveler off the road, thanks to the incident Hircine had called her to handle-- even so. 

But strangely enough, though they arrived at an appropriate time, the townsfolk were… Serana could swear the energy was hostile. This was quickly proven true as she had to restrain Elayn from fighting someone who jostled her as he went by and made a rude comment. As they passed homes, doors slammed shut. The only noise was coming from the Dead Man's Drink. And that, rather than being boisterous like usual, was all the crackle of wood burning, and the low muttering of voices. 

They had only barely just sat down when Elayn said, "Something isn't right here. It's worse now than that trouble with Sinding." 

Serana hummed and glanced around as covertly as she could. They were attracting looks from the patrons. The stares were all of the narrow-eyed, scowling variety. "This place seems to attract trouble. Shall we ask around?" 

"Let me," the werewolf said, getting to her feet. "The woman at the bar knows me." 

Serana leaned back in her chair and fixed her eyes on the fire in the middle of the room, looking for all the world like just another weary traveler in the way she slumped in her seat. But rather than resting, she was focusing her ears on Elayn, so that nothing would have to be repeated later. It took her less than a moment to situate herself; she had long practiced eavesdropping on her father’s court. 

"You were anyone else, I'd tell you not to let the door hit you on your way out. But after that trouble with the werewolf, this town owes you for the closure." 

Serana wasn't watching, but she knew Elayn flinched. It was a sore spot for her mate; she had felt for the renegade werewolf that crossed Hircine by forsaking what the Daedric Prince considered a gift. That, and theft, though truthfully Elayn knew that that much had not truly bothered her Daedric lord. It hadn't stopped her from killing and skinning the renegade as she was bid by the Daedric Prince she worshiped-- but while the Savior's Hide was well illuminated in its display in her house in Whiterun, Elayn did not look at it if she could help herself. Some nights, when her mistakes weighed heavily, she could not stop herself from looking at the Hide and letting regret fill her. 

She recovered well in time to respond, saying, "This all seems worse than that, Valga. Much worse. I didn't think this town could get much more dismal but so it has." 

Valga set a mug down with force. "Yes." The reply was clipped in suppressed anger. "Last time it was just the one child. Now three have gone missing. We only find them dead in time for another to be taken."

"There's got to be something you can give me," Elayn said, desperation bleeding into her tone. "You know I can't just sit by." 

For a few moments Serana heard nothing. Then Valga sighed. "I'm not sure what you can do about it." 

"I'll do my best." The declaration rang with solid conviction. 

"Good enough, I suppose. I won't talk about it here, I don't want to ruin appetites. Go see Runil, he'll show you. Prepare yourself well. It won't be enough." 

That was all she was getting out of the barkeep. Elayn came back to Serana and sat heavily. "I don't like this," she muttered. "Three kids. It's not werewolves, Hircine would tell me." 

Serana's lips twisted down. Something about this situation sat ill with her. There was a note in the air like a bad chord on a lute, combined with the sound of claws on slate. "What do you want to do?" 

"Speak with Runil," was her werewolf's immediate reply. "He'll have some answers, somewhere I can start to search." 

Misgivings flooded her mind, but she held her tongue. Arguing with Elayn when it came to protecting children rarely went anywhere. So instead she said, "I'll rent a room, you go find out what you can. Be careful," she added, meeting her mate's eyes to drive the statement home. 

Elayn leaned over to grab her hand tight. "I won't be long." 

* * *

The moons were rising in the sky as Elayn walked, bathing her in a dim glow that should have been comforting. It was always an invigorating feeling, the light of Masser and Secunda, but now it felt like her skin was crawling away from it. Unsettling for a werewolf who normally found solace in the gleam. 

It did not take long to find the place she was looking for, Falkreath was small and the layout of the town practically led straight to the graveyard. Runil was busy wrapping up his business in the Hall of the Dead. Elayn caught him as he was locking up. "Oi," she called as she approached, jogging. "Runil, it's me." 

The old man's face was heavily lined and creased with age; it twisted with recognition when he looked toward her voice, but without a smile. Keeper of the Dead was hardly a cheerful position, but like the town, there seemed to be more than the usual matters of the regular deceased weighing on his shoulders. 

"Elayn," he greeted her when she neared. "It's interesting to see you here. Will you ever visit our fair town when it isn't burying skeletons in the closet?" 

"If you're burying skeletons in the closet, I'm sorry to tell you there's a perfectly good graveyard right here." When he grimaced she raised a pacifying hand. "Sorry, a poor time for humor, but I know no other way. Valga told me you could fill me in on what's taking children." 

There was a look in Runil's eyes. It was the look of a man who has seen a terrible sight, worse than the look she had seen on supplicants of Molag Bal or Hermaeus Mora. These eyes stared out into the void of Oblivion and would have been grateful to meet Sithis instead. 

"I could," he said. 

"Will you?" 

Runil fixed her with a gimlet stare. "Do you really want me to?" 

She felt her gut twist with desperation. "Runil, please, if another child goes missing and I could have stopped it…" 

The old man breathed out a sigh like a dying shade. "Very well," he said. "Follow me. Don't say I didn't warn you." 

He led her into the Hall of the Dead. The layout was confusing, so Elayn got turned around as they passed through rooms filled with deceased being prepared for burial. Finally, after what felt like an age, they reached a door that seemed just like all the rest. Runil looked hard at her for a few heartbeats before he opened the door and gestured her in. 

The first thing Elayn noticed was the smell. It was not rot, and it wasn't the herbs Keepers of the Dead used for preservation. It had an edge of cold spice that her nose recognized as magicka. But not just any magicka. This was a lot like the scent in the air in the Soul Cairn. 

The second thing Elayn noticed was the three occupied stone slabs, each a lump draped in tan cloth. A small lump. Elayn swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. 

"We find each one every month," Runil said woodenly. "Propped up in odd places like nothing, wrapped in silk." 

Death was not something that frightened a Keeper. So why did Runil look the way he did? Elayn reached and tugged the sheet off the nearest lump. 

Moments later, Runil patted her back as she heaved into an urn that was no longer empty. "Told you," he said in a voice well aged by the sight that had just brought Elayn to her knees. 

It was… Horrific. Elayn was no stranger to gory scenes, but this was no battle between two animals with regenerative powers. There was far less blood, more purple marks than anything, but it was obvious they had been inflicted while the child was alive. Corpses did not bruise. But no skin, no blood under the nails, the blotchy stains weren't right-- the poor thing never had a chance to fight back. 

Elayn stood straight slowly, bracing her arm on the wall next to her. "Where did you find the most recent one?" she asked, voice hoarse. 

Runil gave her a description of a place not far from town where young lovers liked to go to be alone. It would be utterly empty after this. 

"I will stop this." Elayn's jaw was stiff and knotted. "I swear it." 

Hope couldn't exist in the same space as the despair in Runil's eyes, but for a moment it seemed to try. "Thank you, Elayn." 

* * *

Serana was resting on a narrow cot in one of the tavern's small bedrooms. It was a far cry from the spacious bedroom she had slept on in the castle. She'd never say it to Elayn, but the months of travel and sleeping in such beds and rooms was definitely a downgrade. She could tolerate it, but she was grateful vampires did not suffer from bad backs like she saw on many of the other travelers they met. 

Granted, these were people accustomed to sleeping in uncomfortable situations. They slept deeply when Serana needed to feed. Really she knew she shouldn't complain, so she didn't. But still. 

Elayn was not too long, but when she arrived there was a cloud of negative energy around her so thick it felt like the pressure in the air before a storm. "Are you alright?" Serana asked her, rising quickly to meet her at the door. 

Elayn kicked off her boots instead of responding. She was breathing heavily. 

"Did something happen?" she demanded, getting very worried. 

It took longer than Serana would have liked, but finally Elayn unclenched her jaw long enough to say, "We have to get this bastard. We have to." 

"What did you find?" 

Elayn told her. 

The terrible thing, Serana thought, was that the mutilated state of the body she had seen sounded much like her fathers experiments in the dungeons of Volkihar. 

Her first instinct was to tell Elayn that of course they would stop whatever was taking the children and doing such things. But her tongue twisted on the words. She had her misgivings. Giants and wolves and spiders harassing farmers, they could handle. Even a dragon, which was simple in a large kind of way. So why was this situation giving her such a concerning twist in her gut? 

"Elayn," she said quietly. "Are you sure we should get involved? This sounds like a necromancer." 

Serana had long since gotten used to the strange nature of lycanthropes. Really, they weren't that much odder than vampires, just different. A tad more temperamental, but Elayn was usually reasonable about what she would tolerate. One of the things she had gotten used to was the mating bond. It wasn't telepathy, it was less complicated than that. It simply let the two of them get a good read on what the other was leaning towards. It let them understand what the other meant when mere words failed them. She had gotten so used to it being there that it came as a complete shock when she examined the bond and felt a wall. 

Even more of a shock was Elayn's fist putting a sizable dent in solid oak. 

"You want to just leave?" she hissed. "These are children! We can't just--" 

Serana, wide eyed, hurried to say, "Elayn, look at yourself, listen to how you're talking, this isn't you. Something is influencing you." 

In the narrowed burning silver eyes of her mate, she watched her words go in one ear and out the other. 

"Fine," Elayn spat. "Stay here. I'll figure it out myself." 

"Elayn, wait--!" But she was already out the door. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, here's an update, comments cure cancer!

Her head felt hot and stuffed with wool. Elayn had no idea what she was looking for as she stalked away from the tavern, didn't know where to begin finding the malignant bastard who would hurt children like this. But she knew her bones itched too fiercely to let her rest without at least trying. It was almost like the moons above her were full and not slivers. 

She was near the east edge of the town when she picked up a scent. It was cold spice, not quite floral; the same scent that had been on the terribly small bodies. Her feet barely consulted her mind as they changed direction. 

At first the scent was vague, barely there. But the more she followed it, the stronger it got. Suddenly the wool in her head was replaced by pure fire burning on the coals of that scent. She felt herself speed up. 

Dimly she noted there was a voice behind her, calling, but the dense-packed fire in her head did not let her listen. 

The trees beckoned. She ran through them, into the thick, dark pines surrounding Falkreath. 

Time had no meaning as she ran. How could she know time when she barely knew her own name? Her feet found clear paths in the brush, she had very little to do with the process. 

Eventually foliage gave way to a small clearing in front of a disused mine, clear from the abandoned smelting equipment and empty wheelbaskets lined with dirt. She took a glance around. The path to the main road from here was overgrown. This place had been abandoned for a long time. So why did torches burn in the sconces on each side of the entrance? 

Elayn went further. She had no choice. 

In her befuddled state of mind, she did not notice the trap made of a curtain of strung bones that clattered and announced her presence. 

"Ah, a guest! A visitor! How lucky am I." The voice echoed, sourceless, throughout the mine. Elayn couldn't get a read on it even in her right mind. 

Which she was not in, presently. "Gonna find you!" she shouted, feeling her jaw elongate, the ache as her teeth emerged further from the bone, now razor sharp. "Gonna kill you, bastard!" 

The chuckle that responded to her was sweet like sour milk. "I'd like to see you try. Did you think I'd let a wolf sniff me out? You're too big for me, too old, but your bones will serve me well!" 

The necromancer's words cut off into cackling that try as she might, Elayn could not follow. The further she went, the less in control she felt, until the tether on her sanity was as thin as spider silk. "Where are you?!" she howled.

The following events happened fast for Elayn. She heard a wire snap, a blade hiss as it cut the air. There was a shout she could not understand, then cold fire blooming across her back that shoved her face first into the dirt covered stone of the mine. Then another shout. Then… darkness. 

* * *

"What in oblivion were you thinking?" Serana demanded in a hiss. It was far into the day, she barely hauled her mate back before the sun was high enough to harm her even through the clouds. She was not at home to Miss Patience. 

It did not help that Elayn remained sullenly silent. Or maybe the silence wasn't sullen, maybe there was something else, but their mating bond was telling her nothing. 

"Will you just tell me?" she demanded of the recalcitrant werewolf. 

Elayn looked up. Something deeply unpleasant burned in her eyes. "I was dealing with the problem," she snapped. 

"By charging in blindly and getting decapitated?" 

More sullen silence. 

Serana threw her hands in the air. "Fine. You sulk. I'm going to--" 

"No, I'm going," Elayn snapped. "You stay." 

It was a thoughtful sacrifice that sat bitter. Normally something like that was a sign of Elayn's affection. This time it felt more like a condemnation. And the damn bond wasn't telling her anything. 

* * *

Elayn was furious. She was fair certain that she had nearly had the bastard. Then Serana had appeared and ruined it. Now what would she do? Surely the necromancer wouldn't flee, but could she really be sure? She would have to go back quickly. Maybe daylight would be better, he'd be weaker, or sleeping. 

Will you really fare better than last time? whispered a treacherous voice in her head. 

"Shut up," she spat under her breath. 

Out in the sunlight she felt more herself, felt the fog receding as it hadn't indoors. But not entirely, not enough for her to be aware of the fog's effect in the first place. All she knew was that she needed some answers about the layout of the mine. There wasn't a blacksmith in town, so the next best place to ask around was…

The tavern. That she had just left. Where Serana was. 

There was a pang of something she couldn't investigate within herself. She was too angry. So rather than stop and think, she went to the Grey Pine Goods. 

The man behind the counter-- Bolund's brother, she couldn't remember his name-- greeted her with a wordless wave as she walked in the door. 

"I need information," she told him without a hint of niceties. "About a mine somewhere…" 

Where was it? She could not remember through the fog that had encompassed her as she tracked that unmistakable scent. 

The shopkeeper gave her a queer look. "It's a bit early to be hitting the skooma, friend." 

Elayn barely restrained herself from snapping at him. Honestly it was a miracle she did. Instead she blew a breath through her nose. "You've heard about the children going missing?" she asked tersely. "I'm trying to stop it. A little assistance wouldn't go amiss."

The man's face twisted. "Grisly business, I've heard the stories. This mine, it's about a mile east?" 

Elayn shrugged. 

He grunted. "If it's the one I'm thinking, and it must be because there's only one in the area, it's from the days when the Jarl was trying to bring in some more residents with new jobs. Didn't last. No one goes there that doesn't want to disappear. You're saying he's there?" 

Neither of them remarked on the fact that whatever was taking the children could be nothing more or less than a person. Not a monster, not daedra, just a sick person with power to make others suffer.

Elayn was hesitant to answer him. "Keep it to yourself," she said before she could help herself. "If the Jarl sent his guards this bastard would just slip out the back. I'm going to bring him in." 

Approving light burned in the shopkeeper's eyes. "Good to hear it. I've got an old map from when the place was active. Let me see if I can find it."

**Author's Note:**

> See what I mean? Weekly updates to follow! Stay tuned!


End file.
